Naturally Supernatural
by Revert to Normal
Summary: Just a bunch of drabbles about Dean and Sam. Anything from their first trip to the ER to being caught in a hurricane. On Hiatus for at least 3 months.
1. Hurricane

A/N: Okay, so I've decided to just go ahead and give in. Drabbles. I swore I'd never post them, but what can I say? I like writing them. So this whole thing is just going to be a collection of them, in way related to each other. Well, hopefully they all come out somewhat decently. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own them. Though I do live in Florida and have been through just a few hurricanes. I can feel their pain.

* * *

"This is not how I imagined it," Dean grumbled as he stared out the window

"This is not how I imagined it," Dean grumbled as he stared out the window.

"Too bad, because this is how it turned out. So just suck it up," Sam snapped, not looking up from the laptop in front of him. He had been listening to his brother complain for the past four hours. Of course this wasn't how Dean had imagined it, who in their right minds would think of Florida and picture 50 mph wind and pounding rain? Who thought of the "Sunshine State" and pictured a week of nonstop dreary weather?

"I can't believe this! We finally take a vacation and a freakin' hurricane hits," Dean glared out at the rain. From the looks of it, he was hoping that a good old Winchester stare would be enough to quell the raging storm. Obviously he had never gotten the memo that natural disasters didn't fear Winchesters.

"I tried to tell you it was hurricane season. But you insisted on coming here, even though California has pretty much the same weather, and not nearly as many storms!" Sam bit out, closing his laptop. Over five hours of surfing the web and nothing remotely interesting had come up. And you could only play so many games of solitaire before the computer started cheating.

"But come on! It's been a week, how long can one storm last?" Dean sighed, turning from the window and sitting on one of the beds.

"Apparently over a week," Sam replied.

"Gee, thanks a lot Sammy. That was some great input," Dean shifted so that he could lean against the headboard and look at his younger brother.

"I don't know how long these can last! I'm not a hurricane expert," Sam said, trying not to yell. Fighting now wouldn't solve anything. The only thing it would accomplish is a heavy silence that neither of them would be able to ignore, but wouldn't be willing to acknowledge either.

"Really? The Great Samuel Winchester isn't an expert on everything?" Dean said, sarcasm plainly evident in his tone.

"Hey, don't get pissed at me just because your vacation didn't involve bikini clad women and endless alcohol. I didn't even want to come here, remember?" Sam stated, his voice rising against his will. Only Dean was able to upset him so quickly.

"No, you just wanted to keep hunting down a demon that we have no way of killing, and no idea where the hell it went," Dean snapped back. Truth be told, he wanted nothing more than to hunt the son of a bitch down, but with nothing to go on they had hit a dead end.

"At least it's something, Dean. Better than running off to get drunk and laid," Sam stood from the table and took up his brother's spot by the window. He knew he should shut his mouth and just let Dean vent, but he couldn't help himself. He was beyond pissed with his brother for abandoning the search for their mom and Jess and now their dad's killer.

Dean rubbed his hand over his face. He hadn't meant to upset Sam, but he was so damn tired of having to constantly hunt, always having to save someone. And this pointless argument was getting them nowhere.

"Blindly running around the country is better than babes and booze? I don't think so, Sammy boy," Dean tried to lift the mood some. Sam smiled, knowing that Dean was trying to refocus the conversation. Most of the time he hated when his brother did that, but it was a useful skill every once in awhile. Especially since the Winchester men were stubborn and often got into fights over the simplest of things.

"Whatever you say, jerk," Sam turned and sat on the other bed, mirroring Dean's position.

"Bitch," Dean smirked back.

Sam picked up the remote and began flipping through their limited channels. After the first few channels a streak of lightening flashed, followed by earsplitting thunder.

Dean jumped a little at the noise. "Sunshine State, my ass."

* * *

A/N: And there you have it. The first of, hopefully, many to come. Let me know what you think!


	2. Snitch

A/N: And here's the second chapter. I'm actually pretty proud of this. And it's fairly long for me. Just don't expect updates this often all the time. I just really didn't want to work on my Geology paper...

Disclaimer: I have no ownership what-so-ever. If I did...I'd totally drop out of college and spend all day, every day staring at the boys.

* * *

"Dad's going to kill you when he finds out!" fourteen year old Sam informed his brother.

"But he's not going to find out, now is he?" Dean asked, turning to look at Sam. There used to be a time, not that long ago, that he could trust Sam with anything. The kid worshipped the ground the walked on and would do anything to make Dean proud. Unfortunately that had all ended when he became a teenager.

"I won't tell him," Sam said, turning back to his homework. "But if he asks..."

"If he asks you won't say anything," Dean lowered his voice. No way was his kid brother going to sell him out.

"I'll have to Dean. I can't lie to him, he's our dad," Sam threw over his shoulder in a careless voice.

"What do you mean you can't lie to him? We lie to him all the time!"

"Yeah, but we really shouldn't. Like I said, he's our dad," Sam replied as he continued copying math problems out of his book.

Dean stood there staring. No way was Sam being serious. He wouldn't tell their dad…would he? True, Dean had been a little rougher in their sparring lately, and he had forgotten to pick Sam up from school the other day. And he may have been the one to let it slip to Sam's friends that he was scared of clowns. But it was all done in brotherly love.

Watching Sam working on his homework, Dean realized that Sam was serious. As soon as that thought registered, Dean grabbed Sam by his shoulders and threw him onto the floor.

"You little brat! You're not going to tell dad, you got that?" Dean asked, pinning Sam under him. Sam struggled but didn't have a chance against his heavier brother.

"Sitting on me isn't the best way to convince me, you know," Sam snapped, still wriggling under the weight.

"If you ever want to breathe without the help of a machine again, you're not going to say a word to dad. Got it?" Dean growled. Noticing Sam was getting a little red in the face, he eased up some.

Unfortunately he underestimated his scrawny brother's strength and lifted too much of his weight. Sam managed to flip their positions and had Dean's arms pinned under his knees, his hands holding down his shoulders before Dean recognized his mistake. For a second Dean looked up at Sam in surprise before focusing on getting the upper hand again.

As Sam shook his head to clear some of his hair from his face, Dean wrenched his body to the right to throw Sam off. Unprepared for the sudden movement, Sam went flying to the side, barely missing hitting his head on the coffee table his forgotten homework was laying on. Dean pounced on his brother before he had a chance to realize what had happened.

"Not bad, Sammy," Dean grinned.

"Don't call me Sammy. And I'm so going to tell dad now!" Sam pouted, or came as close to pouting as teenage boys did.

"You are not going to tell him anything. If he finds out he'll ground me for months. And if I'm grounded, who's going to take you to your little play dates?" Dean pointed out. He was starting to get desperate for Sam to agree not to say a word; their dad was going to be home soon.

Sam stared at Dean for a few moments, almost as if he was trying to find a flaw in Dean's reasoning. Sam opened his mouth, but just as he was about to give in his eyes moved away from Dean and looked past him.

"Come on Sammy. You know I'm right," Dean coaxed. "Just say those five little words. I will not tell dad."

"Won't tell dad what?" a gruff voice asked. Dean's face froze as he shifted his weight so that he could look behind him without letting Sam up. Their dad stood there, looking slightly amused at the sight of his youngest pinned under his older brother. "Not going to tell me what?"

Dean moved his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked down at Sam, then back up at his dad. He laughed as he rolled off his brother and stood to face the older man. Still racking his brain to think of a plausible explanation, he didn't notice Sam smirking at him.

"Uh, don't tell you that…" Dean started only to stop when he realized he couldn't think of anything.

"Don't tell you that Dean didn't finish cleaning the apartment," Sam jumped in. Looking at his older brother, who was usually so smooth when it came to lying, struggle for something to say he felt the need to come to the rescue.

"Didn't finish cleaning? And that was enough to warrant a wrestling match in the living room? Wouldn't I notice that this place hasn't been clean?" John asked, looking around at the dirty room.

"I was hoping you would let it go," Dean quickly supplied.

"Right, well make sure you get this cleaned up by tomorrow afternoon. Got it Dean? And Sam, finish your homework," John said as he walked towards his bedroom, hearing two "yes, sirs" before he closed the door.

"Thanks for that, bro," Dean turned to look at Sam, who shrugged as he finally stood and walked back over to the couch.

"I just didn't want to miss any of my 'play dates'," Sam said, starting his homework again. Dean smiled as he started walking to the kitchen to grab something to drink. He was relived to know that Sam still had his back, at least for the moment. He had almost made it to the kitchen when his dad's voice called down the hall.

"And Dean! You're grounded for two months for scratching the Impala!"

* * *

A/N: And there you have it! So, no one really snitched, but whatever. Let me know what you think, please!!


	3. No

A/N: This one is really short. But that's what drabbles are. Short. And sorry it took a little long to update.

Disclaimer: I still have no ownership of anything Supernatural. It's all very sad.

* * *

Dean stared at his dad. His dad who was currently walking away from him.

"NO!" Dean yelled at his dad's back. John turned around to stare at his son in shock.

"Excuse me? What did you just say to me?" John walked back over to his son and stared down at him.

"NO!" Dean repeated, looking pleased that he had gotten his father's attention. Dean looked up at his dad and started clapping. "No, no, no, nonononono!"

Hearing a soft laugh coming from behind him, John turned around to see his wife standing in the doorway. She was watching their eight month old son render her husband speechless.

"This isn't funny, Mary. He's telling me no," John said, pointing a finger at their son.

"Well, maybe he's telling you no because you're leaving him. He doesn't get to see you very much, you know," Mary pointed out as she walked into the room.

"Don't start this again. I have to work this much. I didn't realize a baby cost so much," John sighed, running a hand through his hair. Feeling left out, Dean started up his chanting of "no" again, this time looking back and forth between his mom and dad.

"I don't think he likes us fighting," Mary smiled, walking over so she could sit at the table next to him. "I think he may grow up being a peace keeper in this family."

Looking pleased that at least one of his parents had decided to pay attention to him, Dean stopped his yelling and turned to smile at his mom. Mary picked him up and started bouncing him on her knee, eliciting a high pitch giggle from the boy. John watched the two of them and smiled.

"Me, he says no to. You just walk in the room and it's all smiles," John mumbled.

"Oh, he doesn't really understand what he's saying. He's only eight months. Give him a few more years and you'll be wishing 'no' was the only word he knew."

"Well right now, I'm wishing he at least knew how to say 'dad.' Isn't that supposed to be the first word he learns? Or 'mom?'" John asked.

"It all depends on what they pick up. Obviously he hears 'no' quite a bit," Mary looked up at her husband with a raised eyebrow.

"He also hears a lot about cars. Why couldn't he pick up something from there?" John shook his head and looked at his watch. "I need to get going. I'll see you two at dinner."

John gave Mary and Dean a quick kiss each and left. Mary sighed and looked down at the little boy.

"You really should learn how to say 'dad' soon. Maybe that'll make you're daddy stop whining so much," Mary said, turning Dean so she could see his face.

"NO!"

* * *

A/N: They keep getting younger as I post. I mean...Sam wasn't even born in this one! Huh...hopefully I stop this trend or we're all in trouble. Oh, and I had to write one with Mary in it. I just saw the last episode...never saw that coming. Anyways, review! I've only had 3, and one doesn't count because she's an idiot (corncob). THANK YOU!!


	4. Lotion

A/N: I'm using Ridley C. James' characters for all of this. Just so you know. I really like her Brotherhood concept, so I use that. And I absolutely love Caleb and Dean's relationship. So for anyone wondering where Caleb came from and the nicknames they have for each other...now you know. OH! And even the title is "Lotion" it's not dirty or anything. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I still own nothing. I own even less for this chapter, since I blatantly used Ridley's characters...damn

* * *

They had been walking for hours. They were supposedly looking for a Leshy, which had been tricking hikers into following the wrong trail. Nothing too dangerous, but it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt. Unfortunately, they hadn't been able to get an accurate description of what a Leshy looked like, other than they could take on the form of a human if they wanted.

"This is a waste of time! Even if we found the stupid thing, we wouldn't know it," Dean complained as he tripped over another root.

"Yeah, but you know your dad. What he says goes, and he said to walk up to the ridge before heading back," Caleb threw over his shoulder, ducking to avoid a low hanging branch.

"We could turn back now. He wouldn't know," Dean pointed out, hopeful that Caleb would agree. He was already picturing an evening with the cute waitress from the diner.

"Uh huh, and you're going to be the one that lies to his face? Somehow I doubt that, Deuce," Caleb snorted.

"It was just a thought," grumbled Dean, all thoughts of Mindy and her low cut shirt vanishing from his mind.

Caleb smirked, knowing what was going through the younger hunter's head without even having to read him. He had to admit though, this really was a pointless hunt. If you could even call this a hunt, more like a never ending hike. As much as he admired and looked up to the oldest Winchester, there were times that he questioned his decisions. This was definitely one of those times. They had been out here the day before, looking for any sign of the Leshy, and had come up empty handed.

John had been disappointed and insisted on them coming back again. He ignored the fact that they had no clue what this thing looked liked and that it hadn't really done anything yet. Sure it had led a few hikers down the wrong path, causing them to get lost for a few hours, but no one had gotten hurt. And from the research Sam had done, they weren't very dangerous at all, preferring to pull pranks more than anything.

"That is it! I don't care what dad says, this thing is not worth me hiking through some forest for hours," Dean yelled, as stumbled over some loose rocks and fell. Caleb turned around to see the younger man sitting on the ground, wiping his muddy hands on his pants. Smirking at the pout on Dean's face that made him look four again, Caleb walked back over to him.

"If you want, you can stay here while I go up to the ridge. It's not that much further, and I'll probably get there faster without your pansy ass whining the whole time," Caleb offered, taking some pity on his friend. He knew he hadn't been having the easiest time of it lately, with Sam and John constantly yelling at each other anymore. And if he could offer at least something to make Dean's easier, he would.

Dean looked up at Caleb, hardly believing what he had heard. Caleb was offering to walk through the woods while Dean sat on his butt? Something had to be going on. Maybe he was dying and just hadn't been informed yet.

"You serious man? 'Cause I really don't mind it, I was just bitching," Dean made a move to get up.

"Nah, I got this one. Like you said, it's a pointless hike," Caleb said, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder to keep him on the ground. "I'll be back in a few, and we can go see if Mindy is off her shift yet."

With a quick wave, Caleb walked away, disappearing into the overgrown forest. Dean moved so that he could lean against a tree while he waited for Caleb to return. He knew he should be grateful that he didn't have to walk all the way up there, but he couldn't help shake the feeling that Caleb only did that because of what was going on at home. And Dean hated that he was being pitied. Sighing, Dean leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree and looked up at the leaves that were blocking the sun from view.

It was really quiet, all he could hear was the wind moving some of the top most leaves. As he let his mind wander away to his planned night with Mindy, a loud cry shattered his musings. Jerking upright, Dean surveyed the area around himself. Deciding that nothing near him had caused that sound, he looked towards the direction that Caleb had gone. His dad was going to kill him if something happened because they had split up.

SCENE JUMP BECAUSE I'M LAZY

Caleb groaned and rubbed his head, which had made solid contact with the ground when he fell. Blinking his eyes open, he looked up and saw the top of the hole, about eight feet above him.

"_At least it isn't that deep. I should be able to reach the top if I jump," _Caleb thought as he stood. As he put weight on his left foot he realized that jumping to freedom was not going to be an option. Growling in frustration, he started yelling for Dean, hoping that he would wonder what was taking so long and come looking.

SCENE JUMP AGAIN

Dean stopped, his head cocked to the side. He could've sworn he had heard Caleb's voice. But it was too faint to tell what direction it had come from, if it was even his voice to begin with. It had been awhile since Caleb had left, he should've been on his way back by now. The fact that Dean hadn't met up with him left a pit in his stomach. Looking at the trees around him, Dean got the feeling that something wasn't right.

SCENE WHAT? SCENE JUMP!

"_This is useless. Dean hearing me is less likely than John kissing Bobby,"_ Caleb rubbed a hand over his face. He had tried jumping already, only to end up in a painful heap on the ground. His ankle couldn't support almost any of his weight. And climbing was out of the question, seeing as how the walls of the hole were smooth and had no foot or hand-holds.

Looking up at the bright sunlight, Caleb sighed and let his head fall back to lean against the wall. Watching as a bird seemed to mockingly fly in a circle over his head, Caleb let out a yell of frustration.

ANOTHER SCENE JUMP…HOPEFULLY THE LAST

Dean stopped. He knew he heard Caleb's voice this time. It was close, but still sounded muffled somehow. Knowing that he was getting close, he picked up his pace. After another minute or two of walking, Dean came to an abrupt stop as he almost fell into a hole. Looking down into it he saw a very familiar face looking back at him.

"Damien? What the hell are you doing in a hole?" Dean asked, trying to see if the other hunter was hurt.

"Just thought I'd hang out for awhile, you know, take a load off. What do you mean what am I doing in a hole? I fell!" Caleb yelled, trying to put as much anger in his voice as he could manage. His relief at Dean finding him so quickly, however, overrode any anger that flared up at Dean's question.

"You fell into a hole? Did something push you?" Dean asked, making no move to start helping Caleb out.

"No, I just fell. It happens, okay?" Caleb snapped, seeing Dean's grin.

"Wait until Sam hears about this! The great Caleb Reaves fell into a hole," Dean shook his head, laughing.

"Just get me out of here, would you?" Caleb asked, not in the mood for Dean's sense of humor at the moment. He had fallen into a hole, hit his head, messed up his head, and had had to wait to be rescued. His day had sucked and he was more than ready to get back to civilization.

"Okay, keep your panties on. Can't you jump out?" Dean kneeled down so he could see Caleb better.

"Jump? Why didn't I think of that? Oh wait, I did! I can't, my ankle's screwed up," Caleb yelled up at Dean.

"Sorry, just checking. Hmmm," Dean looked around for something that could help him pull Caleb up. "If I got a stick, you could hold onto while I pulled you up."

Dean looked back down at Caleb to see if he approved of his plan. Caleb nodded his approval and Dean's head disappeared. Hearing some movement and a curse or two, Caleb wondered where Dean was getting the stick from. Was he sawing it off the tree himself? Finally Dean's head popped back into view, and he grinned down, causing Caleb to raise an eyebrow at him. He knew that grin, it was the "I'm going to have so much fun with this" grin. It was the one that always made Caleb wish his friend didn't have such a twisted sense of humor.

"It puts the lotion in the basket, or it gets the hose again," Dean smirked, lowering the branch so Caleb could grab it.

"That's not funny, Deuce," Caleb growled. Dean knew that movie freaked him out. Some crazy killing women and sewing their skin into a coat? Sick.

"Yeah it is. Now put that lotion on, Damien," Dean called down, holding back a laugh.

"Just remember payback's a bitch."

* * *

A/N: And there you have it. Another chapter. I really like this one. Even if does jump around a lot. Leave a review and let me know what you thought, please!


	5. Fire and Ice

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. I started other chapters, before I was struck with inspiration. It's a lot more angsty than I usually write, and there's no dialogue. Hopefully you all like it anyways. The poem is "Fire and Ice" by Robert Frost.

* * *

Some say the world will end in fire,  
Some say in ice.  
From what I've tasted of desire  
I hold with those who favor fire.

Fire or ice. Did it really make a difference? No, either way destruction would follow and wipe out everything they held dear. It would destroy everything they had worked so hard to keep safe. And if it was all really going to end anyway, what was the point of what they did? What did it matter if a ghost or wendigo or werewolf killed someone today if the same person was just going to die in the end?

Fire would win, he would bet his life on it. Fire always won out. It had plagued his life since he could remember. Taking his mother away from him so early in life. Yes, it would undoubtedly be fire that would be waiting for him at the end of everything. That wasn't what scared him, he could handle that. What terrified him was the wait. He had to wait for the fire to come and claim him. To come and claim everyone that he loved and wanted to protect so desperately. It could come tomorrow, or he could live another twenty years.

In his life he had come to understand that knowing was better. Knowing what was going to happen and when allowed you to be prepared. Even if there was no escaping the fire, at least he would've known it was coming, been able to come to terms with what was happening. But the chances of that were slim. The end of everything wasn't likely to come with warning signs. It would just happen. A blaze of fire, snuffing out him, his family, his world. It would be like they had never existed. And really, how many people would even realize they were gone? They didn't have many friends that they kept up with.

The fire would consume them and the world would keep on going. It would keep going until the fire came for them.

**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

But if it had to perish twice,  
I think I know enough of hate  
To say that for destruction ice  
Is also great  
And would suffice.

Fire seemed scarier, more destructive at first glimpse. But ice was much worse. It seemed safe. You wouldn't feel threatened by it. Then before you realized what was happening, your world would end. The end of everything would feel like ice. It would be cold, depressing, suffocating. But at the same time, deceptively safe. He would realize that his world was ending around him and nothing he could do would stop it, but he wouldn't be scared.

For awhile he hadn't been able to see the purpose of what they did. Why was it up to them to save people from horrors they didn't even know existed? No one had been there for them, why did they have to be there for others? Growing up had been made even more difficult because of their father's obsession with hunting. It was this obsession that had driven him away. But he was back now, with a renewed sense of duty. He would continue to fight this fight until the fire burned out.

Ice made more sense than fire for one more reason. His brother wouldn't let him die, not as long as he was around. Only when his brother was no longer there to protect would he be able to die. And once his brother was gone, he would be numb. Unable to feel or care about anything. The fire in his life would be gone, there would be no driving force. The ice would start to take hold and slowly overtake him. It would become his world until he could no longer carry on, the ice would win.

It was weird thinking that the end of everything he held close would feel like ice. Especially since fire had played such a big role in his life. First his mom, then his girlfriend. It was weird, but it seemed fitting. After all, fire could only burn for so long before it died. And when it died what would be left? The biting cold. Ice.

* * *

A/N: And there you have it. Hopefully you picked up that the first one is Dean and the second is Sam. Please review and let me know how I did! I really need feedback on this one since it's so different from what I usually write.


	6. Care

A/N: It's my birthday! So to celebrate 20 years of me, I decided to write a little something. It's just Sam and John in this one, which is weird, since I love Dean so much...huh. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but I did wish for them on my candles!

* * *

"You said I could get ice cream," Sam grumbled.

John glared over at his youngest son.

"No. I said _if_ you listened to Dean on the hunt, you could get ice cream."

"I _did_ listen!" Sam argued.

"You did not. You got bored half an hour into it and started complaining. You were so loud that you gave away yours and your brother's position. If I hadn't gotten there in time, who knows what would've happened. You didn't listen; you're not going to get ice cream. Period."

Sam folded his arms crossly, staring out the window in a sullen silence that only a ticked-off ten year-old boy could manage, until John pulled into the grocery store parking lot.

"Come on, Sam. Let's go," he ordered, getting out of the car.

"No."

"Move it! Dean needs more pain medicine because of your screw up. I don't have time to mess around."

"You promised me ice cream."

"Yeah, well…get used to disappointment, Kid. Your life's going to be full of it. Now move."

"No."

Sam's eyes locked with his father's, brimming with a fierce determination that John had seen only a handful of times from his youngest. He had the feeling this wouldn't be the last.

"You know what? Fine!" He snapped, slamming the car door. "Stay here. I don't care."

He stormed into the store, leaving Sam to sulk alone.

He didn't even look back.

By the time he returned from purchasing the medication and some food that would be easy on Dean's stomach a few minutes later, he had cooled off some.

At least he didn't have the impulse to strangle the kid anymore …

But there was no way Sam was getting ice cream.

He gazed wearily across the parking lot, fully expecting to see his son sitting in the backseat, still fuming.

Fully expecting to face another fight the moment he sat down…

But Sam wasn't there.

Even from twenty yards away, John could see the car was empty.

He could also see that the back door was hanging open.

"Sam?"

John's heart stopped. His breath caught in his chest, freezing painfully somewhere between an inhale and an exhale.

Even before he reached the car, even before he was searching it frantically for any sign of Sam, his mind had played out every worst-case scenario possible.

_Someone grabbed him…_

_He's gone…_

_Oh, God._

_I told him I didn't care._

He was in the back seat now, searching the floor.

Analyzing every dust particle and candy wrapper.

He had already compiled a mental list of at least twenty names.

Twenty people he'd pissed off.

Twenty people who might want revenge.

Then there was the countless number of creatures out there.

_I left him…_

_He's gone…_

_I told him I didn't care…_

"Hey, Dad." A tiny voice piped up from behind him.

John turned around.

Sam was standing by the car, holding an ice cream cone and looking perplexed.

"What are you doing?" He asked, regarding his father as if his sanity might just be up for debate.

John's breath finally released.

He hadn't realized he wasn't breathing until that moment…

"What am _I _doing?" He shouted, standing up, his face red. "What am _I _doing? What the hell are _you_ doing, Sam?!"

"Me?" Sam blinked in innocent surprise. "The ice cream truck was right over there…I used my own money. I didn't think you'd care."

John stared down at his son…

Defiant.

Stubborn.

Obnoxious.

…There.

He inhaled again.

Slowly.

It felt good to be able to breathe again…

He jammed his fists into his pockets so Sam wouldn't see them shaking.

"Trust me, Sam. I care."

* * *

A/N: There you have it. REVIEW!! Or at least wish my a happy birthday


	7. Faint

A/N: Sorry it took me so freakin' long to update. I really have no excuse. I'm just really lazy. Oh, and sorry if Dean is out of character...it's just how it turned out. Oh, and thanks to everyone who reviewed and sent me birthday wishes. I only feel slightly bad for making you guys recognize my birthday, hehe. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm just a poor college student with no life.

* * *

"Oh my god, you're drunk."

"…what? No…"

"Yes you are!"

"You're imagining things. I'm not drunk, I'm just…"

"Just what? Unnaturally clumsy tonight? God, I leave to go get us some food and you somehow managed to get hammered! I can't believe you wou…" Sam probably would have continued his rant for another several minutes, but instead his tired body decided to buckle his knees and send him crashing to the floor.

He disappeared beyond the other side of the bed, his body hitting the carpet with an impressive sounding thud. Dean waited a few seconds, then crawled across the bed and peered down at him over the edge.

Sam was flat on his back, looking confused, as if he wasn't quite sure how he ended up on the floor.

"Sam," Dean called when Sam's dazed eyes finally rolled over to meet his.

"…what?"

"Hey, Sam."

"_What?_"

"…didja faint?"

"What the hell do you think?" Sam spat, his face darkening.

"I think you fainted," Dean stated, matter-of-factly.

"Thank you for that insightful observation, Dean," Sam grumbled, using the side of the bed to pick himself up. Once on his feet, he looked down at his brother, who had flipped onto his back so that he could see Sam better.

"How did you get drunk so fast? I was only gone a half hour."

"I told you, I'm not drunk!" Dean said, his voice rising.

"Fine, you're not drunk," Sam snapped, flopping onto the bed next to his brother.

"Glad you agree with me, Sammy boy," Dean replied happily, his arms raised above his head, swinging in wide circles. "Hey, Sam."

"Now what?"

"Ever notice we never call you Samuel? Why is that?" Dean asked, turning his head to stare at Sam.

"I don't know, I guess it's too formal or something."

"Too formal? Too fooooooormal. Too formaaaaaaal," Dean giggled at his new found word, dropping his hands back down.

Sam stared at Dean in disbelief. He really couldn't believe his brother had gotten this drunk in such a short amount of time. Of course, the blood loss may have helped. He shot a glance over to his brother, who was now humming to himself. If he wasn't already so bruised and bloody, Sam would've taken a swing at him.

Noticing the humming getting softer, Sam looked over at his brother to see his eyes beginning to droop. Watching Dean lose a brief fight with consciousness, Sam couldn't help but smile when Dean's eyes closed for good and he started snoring softly. Figuring he was out for the night, Sam got up and walked over to the bathroom to clean up some.

He had only taken a few minutes when they had first returned to the motel to wash up before leaving to get some food. Taking a quick shower, he winced as the hot water ran over some of the deeper cuts. When Dean was up and sober, he'd probably have to put some stitches in those. Toweling off and changing into a pair of track pants and a t-shirt, Sam opened the bathroom door to find Dean still sleeping soundly.

Maybe him passing out because of too much alcohol was a good thing. Normally Dean would've been up half the night, trying to figure out how the hunt had gone so wrong. Or he would've been beating himself up over letting Sam get hurt. Sure, Dean would probably have the same thoughts when he woke up, plus the added bonus of a hang-over, but at least Sam could get some sleep before having to deal with a pissed off older brother.

Wanting nothing more than to fall onto his own bed and fall asleep before he collapsed again, Sam forced himself to walk over to Dean. His brother hadn't even taken off his shoes, let alone his blood stained shirts. Swiftly, Sam freed Dean's feet from the boots and tossed them towards the duffel bags. Now he just had to decide if it was worth it to get Dean out of the bloodied shirts.

Deciding that waking up in clothes stiff with dried blood wouldn't be all that pleasant, Sam bent over to try and wrestle Dean out of his t-shirt. After a few minutes with almost no progress, Sam straightened, panting from his fight with Dean's dead weight.

"Screw it, Dean can just deal with it when he wakes up. Serves him right for getting drunk," Sam grumbled, flipping the comforter over the older Winchester.

Shuffling his way over to his bed, Sam sighed as he sat down. God it felt good to sit down. Barely managing to get under the covers before his eyes started to close, he took one last look at Dean. His brother was sleeping peacefully, a small smile on his face. As he started to drift off, he thought he heard what sounded like "only girls faint" coming from across the room.

* * *

A/N: Yeah...not sure where this idea came from. It's kind of different for me. And I have no idea what hunt they were on or what went wrong...let your imagination run wild with that. Review please! It would be much appreciated.


	8. Process

A/N: Sorry it took so long. Kind of lost motivation, and when I got it back, I broke my computer. Ooops. Well, here's the next chapter, very short, but I think it's funny. Enjoy!

* * *

"This is all your fault," Dean informed Sam, looking across the room at him.

"How is this my fault? It was your idea," Sam asked, wondering what kind of warped logic Dean was going to use to pin this on him.

"Yeah," Dean started, "but why didn't you stop me?"

"What?" Sam looked at his brother. Every time Sam even thought of pointing out flaws in Dean's plans, Dean would tell him to shut up.

"It's your job. I come up with the stupid plan and you bitch and moan until I give in and think of something better," Dean stated, like it was common knowledge. He looked up at the rope tying his hands to a pipe above him. Tugging a few times just served to drive home the point that they weren't getting out of this any time soon.

"Why can't you think of the better plan first?" Sam asked. Dean raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's a process, Sammy. You wouldn't understand."

* * *

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this. At least more than the last one I posted...I'll probably delete that one cause it's REALLY bad. Anyways, you should review. It makes me happy. And since I have another one written, reviews will make me post it soon-ish. ;)


	9. Tied Up

A/N: I really didn't mean to take this long to update. Especially since I've had this written since I last posted. But I finally got it up. This is kind of a missing scene from Phantom Traveler. I was wondering how Sam got Dean into that suit so easily. Well, enjoy!

* * *

"Would you sit still? You're making it worse!"

"I will not sit still. And you're the one that's going to make it worse if you keep coming at me like that."

"I'm trying to help you."

"I'm fine, I don't need help."

"You do need help, no way are you going to be able to do this yourself."

"It doesn't matter if I can do it myself or not, because **that** is not coming near me!"

"Stop whining."

"I'm not whining."

"Are too."

"Are not."

"Are too."

"Are not."

"Are…damn it! Just shut up and let me finish!"

"No."

"I **will** handcuff you to this bed."

"Kinky."

"Fine, I give up! Do it your own way then."

"I will!"

"But when that fails, like I know it will, don't come crying to me."

"It'll work. I mean, dude, it's me!"

**....Later....**

"Told you it wouldn't work. You gonna do it my way now?"

"Fine."

"It won't kill you."

"It might. The stupid thing might get caught on something. And have you noticed how easily someone could grab it? Might as well say 'come choke me, and use this handy thing I've already tied around my neck for your convenience!'"

"And you call me a drama queen."

"I look like one of the Blues Brothers."

"No you don't. More like a 7th grader at his first dance."

* * *

A/N: Anyone go see Bloody Valentine? Heheh, I did! It was great, in that really cheesy, not very scary, totally predictable kind of way. But worth it to see Jensen on the big screen for an hour. I still need to go see the new Halloween movie...Any-o-ways, review, please!


	10. Stranger

A/N: A pretty fast update for once. So, this has no dialogue...which I don't usually like. And I wanted to write something funny, but that didn't happen at all. Dean's POV. Enjoy!

* * *

I don't recognize my brother anymore. Something happened in those four months that I was gone. I'm not an idiot, I knew life wouldn't stop just because I wasn't around. I knew Sam would change a little. But to the point where he's working with a demon. Killing people without a second thought. I never thought my little brother would become that. Become dad.

And he thinks I'm the most like dad. It's almost funny that he can't see it. After years of criticizing the man, you'd think he'd recognize the same behavior in himself. What sucks is that I could accept all of that. Enough practice with dad and all. The thing I can't handle is the secrets and lying.

I'd be willing to look the other way when he goes out with Ruby to do who knows what. But not if he won't tell me what he's doing. He must think I'm clueless. How could he think that I wouldn't notice what him and that little bitch are doing? Maybe it's just that he doesn't think I'm smart enough to figure out what's going on that hurts the most. And he doesn't see why this bothers me. Even after the angels told him to stop, he didn't. The damn angels, warriors of God, couldn't make him stop.

I can't help but wonder if I'll have to keep my promise to dad after all. I didn't save Sam, and I don't think I can. I may have to kill my brother. The only good thing in my life.

But he's not my brother anymore. He's a stranger.

* * *

A/N: Short, I know. But I'd still appreciate reviews. The next one WILL be longer and hopefully lighter.


	11. Advantage

A/N: This one is all dialogue. I was thinking of adding more to it, but I like it as is. Enjoy!

* * *

"Dean, you're hurt. Just let me help you."

"I'm fine, Sam."

"Is that why your shirt is covered in blood, because you're fine?"

"It's not covered. These are more like spots of blood."

"Spot. It's one big spot that's covering your whole side."

"It just spread a lot."

"It just spread a lot."

"Yeah."

"Seriously? That's the best you can come up with?"

"At the moment, yes it is."

"That was pathetic."

"Stop hovering and I'll come up with something better. I can't think with you this close."

"You can't ever think."

"Funny, Sam. Laugh at an injured man. Real nice."

"Oh, now you're hurt?"

"When it's to me advantage, yes."

"God you're immature."

"But I got the looks, so we're even."

* * *

A/N: So, that last episode, It's a Terrible Life. Absolutely hilarious. Loved the Ghostfacers how to videos. And that was a fairly simplistic way to stop Dean bitching about his time in Hell, haha. Feel free to review, it would make me beyond happy!


	12. Super

A/N: It took a while to update, but here's another little drabble for you guys. And I definately side with Sammy in this. Enjoy!

* * *

Staring out the window, Dean saw the exact same thing he'd seen for the past six hours. Trees and empty road. The excitement was endless. He rolled his head to see how Sam was holding up and couldn't help but smirk at what he saw.

Sam was busy trying to stay awake by shaking his left leg, tilting his head from side to side trying to pop his neck, and blinking rapidly. It was going on four in the morning, unless they had switched time zones again. Sam had driven the whole time since Dean had a concussion and blurry vision as a result.

Figuring he should help his brother stay awake, Dean cast around for a topic. Landing on one that would require little thought, but was still entertaining, he sat up straighter and turned to face Sam.

"Who would win in a fight: Batman or Spider-man?"

"What?" Sam asked, turning his head to look at Dean.

"If they ever had it out, who would win?" Dean repeated.

"They're both superheroes," Sam pointed out. "Why would they fight?"

"Just say they did."

"They don't live in the same city. How're they even crossing paths?"

"Comic books overlap all the time!" Dean snapped, why couldn't his brother just answer the question as is? Not everything had to be overly analyzed.

"Not really. And they're not the same comic book, one's DC and the other's Marvel."

Dean just looked at Sam for a few moments, his eyebrow quirked. Yeah, Sam's definitely a geek. "Humor me. If they ever fought, who would win?"

"Spider-man," Sam answered, barely hesitating to think.

"What?" Dean asked, surprised Sam had decided so quickly. And Spider-man? Who chooses Spider-man?!

"I think Spider-man would win," repeated Sam.

"No way dude. Batman would so kick Spidey's ass." Obviously Sam hadn't thought this through all the way.

"How? Spider-man can climb walls…"

"Batman has that belt buckle that pulls him up…"

"…he can shoot webs out of his hands…"

"…punches people and just knocks them out…"

"…'spidey senses'…" Or maybe Sam had thought it through. Still didn't mean he was right.

"…bat hearing…"

"…girl of his dreams…"

"…girls of his dreams…"

"…he doesn't need a sidekick."

"…has someone to boss around."

Sam paused a second, trying to think of something else that would defend his decision. "He's an actual superhero."

"And Batman isn't?"

"No! He's just some guy with a grudge and too much money," Sam stated, already getting that look on his face whenever he wins a fight.

"And Spider-man just got bit by some stupid bug!" Dean shot back.

"Exactly! He didn't ask for his powers. But he chose to use them to fight evil," Sam nodded, his point proven.

"Batman uses his money to help catch the bad guys. And he employs half of Gotham."

"Spider-man works, goes to school, and fights crimes. All while trying to date Mary Jane and keep her from finding out who he is."

"Batman works!" defended Dean.

"No, he's the owner of a company and has other people work for him."

"He has a kick ass car." Dean mumbled; slumping back into the seat, his arms crossed.

Sam snorted. Figures Dean would bring up the car. But, Sam had to admit, that car was pretty cool.

Dean was silent for a few more miles, staring out the windshield at the dark road. Looking at Sam out of the corner of his eye, he asked another question. And if Sam didn't answer this correctly, he'd deny they were related for the rest of their lives.

"What about Superman? He's from another planet. Isn't that an unfair advantage?"

"His alter personality is kind of nerdy too." Sam said, a half smile forming.

"And where is everyone getting so much kryptonite?" Dean asked, flinging his arms up, his own mouth forming a smile. Maybe he'd continue admitting Sammy was his little brother.

* * *

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed it. Please review, even if it's just to let me know which superhero you like more. Or to tell me I totally screwed up the super hero stuff. Thank you!!


	13. Checking Up

A/N: Sorry this took so long to update. But this is about 2-3 times longer than I usually write. Hopefully you all enjoy it.

* * *

Sam walked across the grass behind the student center. He had exams all next week and was spending more time than usual in the library. Which was saying something since he practically lived there to begin with. But now he was there from 8 a.m. when it opened to midnight when it closed. But just five exams and he'd be done for the semester. Then two weeks off and summer semester would begin.

As he crossed the road, he caught sight of the back end of a black car. Slowing his pace, he stared in the direction the car had disappeared. For a second he had thought he recognized it. It even had the same rumbling motor as…

No. Sam shook his head and picked up his pace again. Obviously he needed some sleep if he was not only seeing, but hoping it had been the Impala. He hadn't talked to his brother for going on a year now. His dad even longer. Dean had tried to call him a few times, but after a few unanswered calls had stopped. Sam felt guilty that he had done that to his brother, but he refused to get sucked back into hunting.

Still, maybe he should call Dean real fast; let him know he was doing fine. But not until after finals, he had to concentrate on school and couldn't afford to be distracted.

------------

Sam walked out of the classroom. Only one exam left, Constitutional Litigation. Yeah, that was going to be a fun one. Figuring he could grab a quick lunch before heading back to the library, Sam walked towards the dining hall. Busy hoping that they had more to offer than the usual pizza and french fries, he hit someone's shoulder with his own. His head shot up to see who he had hit and apologize, but the guy hadn't even slowed down. Turning around to watch the guy's retreating back, Sam was hit with a sense of familiarity.

Faded, ripped jeans, leather jacket, short, spiky, blonde hair. From the back it almost looked like Dean. But what would Dean be doing here at Stanford? Besides, just because he had the same hairstyle and clothes didn't automatically make him Sam's big brother.

Sam continued walking towards the dining hall, casting looks over his shoulder at the guy he had hit. Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Sam forced himself to stop looking back. He wasn't sure why all of a sudden he was seeing signs of his brother everywhere, but it had to stop. He still had his hardest exam coming up. He'd call Dean tomorrow and find out that he and their dad are across the country somewhere.

------------

Walking out of his last exam with a few other students that had finished at the same time, Sam couldn't help but smile a little. He felt good about this one. He had known most of the information and the few questions he had been unsure of he had been able to make an educated guess.

Hearing his name called, he turned around to see Eric walking towards him.

"Tough exam. But I think I managed to pull of a C on it," Eric said as he and Sam began walking together.

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be," Sam replied.

"Well not for you. You're a genius or something," Eric joked, smirking at Sam's eye roll.

"I'm not a genius. I just study a lot."

"I noticed. We haven't seen you in weeks, and I'm your roommate!"

"Yeah, I just wanted to do well. But I have a few weeks off before summer semester, so we can all hang out some now."

"Good, 'cause we're going to The Greenery tonight to celebrate the end of classes. You're totally coming with us," Eric said.

"Who all's going to be there?" Sam asked.

"You know the usual crowd. Adam, Mike, Nichole, Jess," Eric said the last name slowly as he looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye.

Sam paused a second at Jess' name. He had been working up the courage to ask her out for months now. Maybe tonight, after a few beers, would be the night.

"Okay, cool. Call me to let me know what time and I'll meet you guys over there," Sam said.

"Will do, man…Hey, you know that guy?" Eric asked, pointing to a bench 20 feet away. Looking to where he was pointing, Sam saw the same guy he had run into the other day. This time wearing sunglasses and a long-sleeved shirt rolled up to his elbows instead of the leather jacket. He was sitting sprawled, taking up a whole bench with his arms stretched, resting on the back of the bench. His head was leaned back and a foot was tapping out a beat.

He really did look like Dean.

"I don't think so, why?"

"He keeps looking over at us. It's weird. Anyway, I need to hurry if I'm going to meet up with Katie," Eric said, already forgetting about the guy staring at them.

"Alright, dude. Catch ya' later," Sam said, waving as Eric headed in another direction. He looked back at the bench only to find it empty. Looking around for him, Sam was surprised at how quickly he had blended into the crowd of students. Unable to see the guy, Sam continued walking towards his dorm to drop of his bag and start building up the courage to ask Jess out.

------------

The Greenery, a local student bar, was packed with students celebrating the end of the semester. Sam and his group sat in the middle at a round high-top table, empty beer glasses in front of them. They had been there just over two hours and Adam had already drank too much and was in the process of trying to pick up some girls at the bar while his friends laughed at his failed attempts.

Sam kept looking across at Jess. She looked beautiful with her hair tied up and wearing a Stanford cardinal shirt. A couple of times she had caught him looking and had smiled at him, blushing a little. Sam hoped that was a good sign.

"Dude, it's your turn to buy a round. But don't get Adam one, we'll be carrying him home as it is," Eric said, flipping his beer glass upside down to prove the fact that he was out.

"Okay, I'll be right back," Sam said, getting up and walking to the bar, making sure he stayed clear of Adam. Placing his order with the bartender, he looked around at some of the other students. He recognized a few of them from some of his classes and waved.

Picking up the drinks the bartender had just put down, he turned around and walked back to the table. As he sat down, the door to the bar opened to let in another group of celebrating students. Over the sound of drunken kids yelling and the radio playing he heard the low rumble he had heard last week. Sam looked out one of the windows, positive it was his brother's car. A motorcycle drove by, revving its engine before shooting off down the road.

Sam shook his head, turning his attention back to his friends. He was stupid for ever hoping it had been Dean. He had cut his family out of his life, why would they bother checking up on him?

------------

Dean pulled onto the highway, heading east. He had a long drive ahead of him if he was going to meet is dad in Foxton, Colorado the next day. He was going to have to drive nonstop since it was a 20 hour drive from Stanford.

* * *

A/N: Awww, Dean does care! And that last episode...Sam sucks! But that was a pretty awesome fight. I can't help but wonder if next season is all about Dean trying to hunt Sam now since the preview for the season finale shows Sam with black eyes...hmmm. Well, please review! Oh, and the Greenery is a bar down in Tampa by University of South Florida. And Sam's class really does exist at Stanford, who's mascot is the Cardinals like Jess' shirt. And Foxton, Colorado is a 20 hour drive from Stanford. I put in waaay to much research for this chapter, heh. Review!!


	14. Murphy's Law

A/N: Okay, so I'm not over the moon about this one. But it's still pretty okay, hopefully you guys like it. And please review!! Enjoy!

* * *

"I can't believe this happened," Dean commented, looking across the room to Sam.

"What's so unbelievable about it? The fact that the plan failed or that no one believed us about the spirit?" Sam asked.

"Well, no, all of that's happened before. I mean I can't believe all of this happened. In one job. To us," Dean said that last part with emphasis, like that was what was truly bothering him about all of this. And it probably was.

"We did seem to have an unusual amount of bad luck with this one."

"Bad luck? This is more than bad luck, Sammy. This is like, epic unluckiness. Chances of _**no**_ one in how many people believing us about a vengeful spirit? Low."

"Yeah, I guess. But you can't really blame people for not taking us seriously."

"Chances of somebody breaking into our hotel room and swiping our weapons?" Dean continued. "Very low."

"We were in the crappiest motel ever. How many robberies do you think that place sees a year?"

"Chances that our intel from Bobby and our own research was wrong? Very friggin' low."

"Okay, I'll give you that one. I have no idea how Bobby could've been so wrong about this. But don't you think you're being a little paranoid? It was just a string of extremely bad coincidences," Sam leaned his head back against the wall.

"We don't believe in coincidences, remember?"

"When it comes to the supernatural, no. But come on, man! You can't really think this was some supernatural thing out to get us."

"What about the water on the stairs that made us fall right into the arms of what we were hunting? I don't know about you, but I would call that supernatural."

"This is an old, abandoned house, the roof is just leaky."

"You can't explain this away. Something is out to get us. Other than that spirit, no ordinary spirit has that much power."

"Maybe it does. I mean, if the person died really violently or wants revenge the spirit could be that powerful. We've seen it before."

"Yeah, but I don't think that's what's going on here. It has to be something more," Dean rubbed a hand over the top of his head, wincing when he touched a cut he had gotten from the fall down the stairs.

"Fine, it's not the spirit. What is it then?"

"I don't know. That's the point. But something made everything possible go wrong."

There was silence for a few minutes. Then, voice echoing in the empty room, Sam yelled "That's it!"

"What's it?"

"What you just said, that's what it is."

"Yeah, you're going to have to explain better than that, Sammy."

"Murphy's Law!"

Dean stared at his brother, just able to make him out in the dark. He had to be joking. Who actually used Murphy's Law as an explanation? No, Sam wasn't serious. He couldn't be serious. Dean continued to just stare at Sam, waiting for him to smile or say he had been joking.

"Oh come on, you know what Murphy's Law is. Everything that can go wrong will go wrong," Sam explained, thinking Dean's blank look was one of confusion, not disbelief.

"And that's what happened to us? Some half-assed explanation about why things go wrong?"

"Yeah, it totally makes sense!" Sam said excitedly.

"Uh huh. So you refuse to believe that it could be something supernatural out to get us, but this random law you accept?"

"Nothing else fits. All you can come up with is the idea that something is after us and somehow made everything go wrong and then caused the house to cave in, trapping us in the basement."

"And all you can come up with is Murphy's Law! That's not an answer, Sam," Dean huffed.

"It's more than what you're coming up with. You just have an unnamed thing!" Sam replied. His idea was just as good as Dean's.

"Whatever. This isn't helping us any. Let's just agree to disagree on this one. You can stick with your stupid law and I'll go with vengeful spirit/demon/thing out for our blood."

"Fine," snapped Sam.

"Fine," Dean snapped right back.

"It's totally Murphy's Law," Sam muttered a few minutes later.

"Sam!"

* * *

A/N: So there you go. It was harder than you think to come up with things that could go wrong...hence the vagueness. Please review, I'm starting to lose some motivation because of lack of response. Not that it'll really make me stop posting, but you should still be nice and give me some feedback. Thank you!!


	15. Seconds

A/N: Thank you to everyone who's been reviewing and/or putting this on their alert list. I love hearing what you guys thought. Here's a somewhat long-ish one for you guys. Enjoy!

* * *

"Sammy," Dean grinned weakly up at me from his hospital bed as I walked into the recovery room. "Did you bring me ice cream? Aren't you supposed to bring ice cream?"

"That's for tonsils, Dean," I told him, pausing in the doorway. "Not when your appendix almost bursts."

"Right," he nodded, rolling his head to side. "You still could've brought me some."

I opened my mouth to tell him something else….I don't even remember what.

I think I was going to say he looked like hell, because he did. He was pale and his voice was so faint I could barely hear it from the doorway.

But I never got a chance to tell him he looked like hell. I never got a chance to say anything. Because that's the moment his eyes rolled back and his heart stopped.

I heard the frantic beeping of the monitors next to his bed. I heard the shouts of the doctors and nurses around me as suddenly then entire floor seemed to come alive.

Before I could say anything, before I could even yell his name, I was being shoved aside by people in scrubs.

"He's crashing!" "Get a cart in here!"

I heard their words, but I wasn't listening. God, I wasn't even breathing. I just let myself be pushed into the corner of the room as they surrounded Dean, blocking him from my view.

I couldn't even see him anymore through the sea of blue and green and white. They were still shouting, but so was I.

The only difference was my screams were all in my head. At least, I think they were. I could never be sure. To me, they were louder than anything else in the room except the heart monitors.

_No. No. God, no! This is wrong! They caught his appendix in time! They said he was fine! He can't— this is wrong!_

I kept screaming it over and over, sometimes out loud and sometimes in my head. At least, I think I shouted it at least once…I must have, because at one point a doctor turned around and yelled for someone to get me out of there.

But no one tried, and I didn't move. I couldn't move even if I wanted to. I was frozen in place, trapped in that single, endless moment in time.

_No! God, no! This is wrong! It's only been three months!_

This last thought was new, but it hit me like a knife through the heart.

_It's only been three months! I just got him back from Hell, I couldn't lose him again!_

It wasn't supposed to end like this. It couldn't. Not after everything we had been through. Not with the apocalypse on the way. I couldn't do this by myself. I didn't want to do this without him. He sold his soul to save my life. He went to Hell for me and somehow managed to come back. And he was going to be taken out by his appendix?

God, it was wrong! It was more than wrong. It was twisted. Freaking twisted.

_It's not supposed to end like this! I'm not supposed to watch you die again! Once was more than enough._

Of course, I wasn't watching him die. Not really. I still couldn't see anything through the ocean of scrubs in front of me.

One of the doctors moved suddenly, and I caught a glimpse of him. He was still pale; his arms flung out on either side of him as they opened his hospital gown and prepared to shock his heart back to life.

"Clear!"

I heard the word being shouted; somewhere in the back of my screaming thoughts I could hear it well enough to know what it meant. It was shouted again, and then the frantic beeping of the heart monitors stopped.

The sea of doctors and nurses slowly parted, and I could see him again. He was still chalk-white, but his chest was slowly rising and falling again. A nurse gently grabbed my arm and turned me around, pushing me towards the door.

"Come on, Honey," she told me firmly yet kindly. "You have to go. You can come back later. There's nothing you can do here right now, anyway. We'll take care of him, don't worry. Just let him rest for a while."

I didn't object or fight back, though I wanted to. For the second time that day, I just let them push me where they wanted me to go. I turned back one last time at the doorway, letting my eyes fall on my invincible big brother again.

As I turned back, my eyes fell on the clock that was hanging on the wall. I stared at it for a moment, certain it had to be wrong.

"How long…?" I started to ask the nurse as she tugged on my arm again.

She looked back at me, immediately understanding the unformed question. "His heart stopped for fifteen seconds."

I blinked.

That couldn't be right. It was wrong. It had felt like hours…like a lifetime.

The thoughts, the emotions, that had flooded through my body…it couldn't have all happened in fifteen seconds.

I shook my head slowly, uncomprehendingly. Her fingers tightened around my elbow as she steered me out the door.

"It was only fifteen seconds."

I didn't argue with her, but I knew she was wrong. My heart was still racing, my hands were still trembling. That wasn't fifteen seconds. There was no way to measure that time. It was somewhere between eternity and the blinking of an eye. Somewhere between standing completely still and moving so fast you can't even catch your breath.

I was going to have to tell him when I saw him later. Tell him about his fifteen seconds, and about my thousand years.

Tell him he wasn't allowed to die. Tell him that today was wrong. That it couldn't end like that. Not now. Not even for fifteen seconds.

* * *

A/N: And there you have it. Not sure how much I like this one. I think I'm more indifferent than anything else. But please review and let me know what you thought.


	16. Success

A/N: Sorry it took me so dang long to update! Hopefully the wait makes this seem that much better. Enjoy!

* * *

"I _know_ you are not trying to get up two hours after having a bullet removed from your shoulder and a grand total of twenty-seven stitches. Nine of which were in your head."

"I'm fine," Dean replied, attempting to stand up and promptly falling back onto the bed as the world spun. "Or, I will be."

"Well, you're not fine now. So you can just sit there until you can clearly see how many of me there are."

"Judging by how much you're bitching at me, I'd say there's at least three of you," Dean smirked, even as he moved to lie back down.

"Cute."

"I thought so."

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

"Dean, sit down!" Sam shouted at his brother not ten minutes later.

"I'm bored! I can only stare at the ceiling for so long before the water stain loses what little interest it has," Dean whined, pushing himself up to a half standing position, clutching the bed for support.

"I don't care if you're bored. You can't be up right now," Sam said, moving to push Dean back down.

"Why can't I be up?" Dean asked, channeling his inner five year old.

"Because I know you still can't see straight. And you're probably still lightheaded from the blood loss," Sam informed his now pale brother, gently pushing back onto the bed.

"Dude, it's been hours! I think I'll be okay," Dean said, pushing Sam's hands away and trying to stand back up.

"Fine. And when you pass out, I get to say 'I told you so' for the rest of the day," Sam backed away, watching Dean's attempt to stand.

"I'm not going to pass out. Stop worrying so much, Sammy," Dean said, flashing a triumphant smile as he once again stood.

"I wouldn't have to worry if my idiot big brother would do as he's told."

"Number one rule of big brotherhood: _Never _listen to the little brother."

"Even if he knows better?"

"Little brothers never know better, they just think they do."

Sam just snorted in response, continuing to hover in case Dean's body overrode his stubbornness and failed to support him. Seeing Sam's obvious worry, Dean sighed.

"Look, I'm just going to go to the bathroom, okay? Then I'll come right back and sit down. Won't take me more than five minutes."

"Alright, but if you need any help, you better call," Sam said, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Dean might need to pee, but it didn't change the fact that he was swaying where he stood.

"Deal, if I need you to hold my hand while I take a piss, you'll be the first person I call," Dean said, making his way towards the bathroom, his left leg pushed against the bed for support.

Sam watched as Dean reached the end of the bed. It wasn't much farther to the bathroom, but it was still a good five steps that Dean would have to take without support of the bed. Probably four more than he was capable of at the moment. Dean hesitated for a second before taking that first step away from his support system. His legs shook, but he was able to keep his footing. It seemed like an eternity before he reached the bathroom door, and somewhere between the third and fourth step his legs began shaking even more. He looked like was trying to walk on one of the moon bounce things. Once there he grabbed for the door frame to help support his weight. As he turned to close the door, he shot Sam a smile that clearly said 'See, told you I could make it.'

Sam had to admit, he was impressed Dean had made it to the bathroom. But there was still the return trip.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

It was coming up to that five minute mark that Dean had set. And he was still in the bathroom. Sam paced in front of the bathroom door, wondering what his brother was doing in there. Seriously, how long did it take to pee and wash your hands? Hearing the door knob turning, Sam backed away from the door a few steps, not wanting Dean to know he had been moments away from breaking the door in.

"Have fun pacing?" Dean asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Sam's cheeks flushed pink at being caught. Dean snorted a laugh and started making his way back to the bed.

He made it all of two steps and his legs started buckling. Sam was at his side in an instant, grabbing Dean's left arm to help hold him up. Obviously Dean wasn't feeling well at all because he allowed Sam to support most of his weight as he brought his other hand to his head.

"Whoa, that was pleasant," Dean said, voice softer than usual. As the world righted itself he looked from Sam to the grip he had on his arm. Raising his gaze he gave Sam a look and pulled his arm away.

Sam reluctantly let go of his brother but didn't step away. He could see that Dean was seconds away from passing out and wanted to be close by when the moment came. Dean took another few seconds to collect himself before attempting another step. As he moved his foot forward, the room pitched at an alarming rate and righted itself just as quickly. The sudden movements had Dean stumbling, almost going to his knees as dark spots crowded his vision. As he felt his hold on consciousness slipping, he heard his name and felt an arm wrap itself around his chest.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Sam watched Dean gather his remaining strength and take a step. Or, he started taking a step. Suddenly his brother was tilting one way then the other before he started to collapse. Sam hurried to catch Dean before he hit the ground, shouting his name. As he caught him he saw Dean's eyes roll back into his head.

Huffing, Sam shook his head and lifted his brother's dead weight to place him back on the bed. Setting Dean on the bed, he stepped back and looked at his brother. His face was pale enough to blend in with the pillow cases and it looked like he had torn a few stitches on his arm as blood was running in a thin river down to his hand.

"Well, that was a success."

* * *

A/N: So, feel free to review. They make my day. If any of you have any ideas for me, let me know. I'm starting to struggle for them a little. Oh, and I'm starting another little drabble serious called "Four Letter Words" Look for it soon. But don't worry, this will be my main focus. Any-o-ways, REVIEW PLEASE! Thanks.


	17. Hate

"Open the door, Sam," Dean demanded, resting his head against the door. "Come one, you can't stay in there all night."

"Yes I can!" Sam yelled.

Dean sighed and walked back over to his bed to sit. He sat staring at the closed bathroom door, wondering how he could convince his brother to come out. He knew that if Sam wanted to, he really would spend the night in there. If their dad came back and saw that Sam was still throwing his tantrum, there would be more yelling. And that would lead to Sam sulking even more.

"I have to pee, Sammy! You have to let me in," Dean yelled, not really thinking that it would work.

"I know you don't have to pee! I'm not coming out, so stop trying!" Sam yelled back.

Dean fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He would've been surprised if that had worked. After Sam had fallen for that three or four times, he had finally caught on. He wouldn't open the door even if Dean was telling the truth. Knowing that he would eventually have to talk to Sam about the latest fight, Dean scowled at the discolored ceiling. He hated listening to Sam list the many ways their dad had done them wrong. He knew John Winchester wasn't perfect, but he was their dad, their only parent.

Rolling of the bed, Dean walked back over to the door and sat down, his back leaning against it.

"You know dad doesn't mean half of what he says," Dean said, beginning their script. This conversation was pretty much the same every time, with only a few differences.

"He still says them," Sam said, sounding like he was five instead of fifteen.

"Yeah, he does. But you're not exactly making it easy for the old man," Dean skipped the part where they go back and forth over whether or not their dad really did mean what he had said. He really didn't have the patience for that tonight.

"It's not my fault. If he wasn't so obsessed with hunting we could have a normal life," Sam claimed. "Don't you want a normal life, Dean? To be able to play baseball or actually have a girlfriend?"

"Yeah, it'd be nice. But that's not our life. Something killed mom, don't you think we should find it?"

"I don't even remember her! How can I want revenge for something I don't remember?"

"You may not remember it, but me and dad do. And she was your mom too."

"I know. But it's still not fair."

"Life isn't fair, Sammy. You just have to suck it up and deal with it."

There was silence for a few moments before Sam spoke again, his voice soft like he was ashamed of what he was about to say.

"I hate him."

Dean opened his mouth to respond before he realized what his brother had said. Unsure of how to respond to Sam's statement, he just sat there.

"Dean?"

"I'm still here. You don't really hate him, do you?"

"I think I do. He's never done anything just for us. We're not his sons, we're his soldiers."

"But hate? Don't you think that's a little overdramatic?" Sure their dad wouldn't be winning any father of the year awards, but he wasn't that bad. Definitely not bad enough to warrant hatred from his youngest son.

"I mean it, Dean. I guess I love him, but only because he's our dad. But as a person, I hate him."

"You shouldn't say that. You don't really mean that. You can't."

"I do mean it. Does that make me a bad person?"

Sam sounded lost, like he wasn't sure what he would do if Dean said yes. Was he a bad person just because he didn't like their dad? And if he was, could Dean really tell him that?

"No, you're not a bad person."

"Do you hate me?" The fear was obvious in Sam's voice.

"What?" Dean asked, caught off guard with the change in direction the conversation had taken.

"Do you hate me? You know, because I hate dad. I'd understand if you did."

"Of course I don't hate you. I could never hate you, Sammy."

Dean stood up when he heard the door unlock. Sam stepped out, his eyes red from crying. He offered a watery smile to his older brother as he walked over to his bed. Dean followed, unsure of what to say. He really wasn't good at sharing feelings and even worse at dealing with other's feelings. Sam looked over at his brother and almost laughed at how uncomfortable he looked.

"Sorry I broke your rule about no chick-flick moments," Sam said, trying to put his brother at ease.

"I guess I can let it slide this once. But you only get one a year," Dean quipped, glad that Sam had ended the share-and-care moment. This one may have ended fairly painlessly, but Dean wondered how many more were to come. And if, eventually, Sam wouldn't be mollified with a few simple words from his older brother. Dean knew that the day would come when Sam would want real explanations on why they lived the way they did. And he knew they wouldn't be painless.

* * *

A/N: Sam and Dean angst. A good chapter in my opinion. PLEASE leave a review. Or an idea for another one-shot/drabble thing. Hope you all enjoyed this one!


	18. Iced

A/N: Soo, it took me way longer than I had planned. What's sad is that it was all written a month ago except for the last paragraph. Yeah...I suck. Hope you all enjoy this! And please feel free to review...

* * *

"Sam!" Dean yelled, watching as his brother's head bobbed a few times before disappearing under the water. Running along the bank of the river, searching for any sign of Sam, Dean also kept an eye out should the water nymph make a reappearance. He was pretty sure he had said the last few words of the banishing ritual as Sam was being dragged towards the water. It had killed him having to choose between finishing the job and dropping everything to save Sam. Of course, if he had stopped to go after Sam, the nymph would still be around and he'd have no chance of saving Sam. Sometimes, life really did suck out loud.

Just as Dean was sure that Sam wasn't going to resurface, he caught sight of the shaggy brown hair that was a trademark of his little brother. Figuring the nymph was gone since it hadn't come back yet; Dean dropped his gun and flashlight and ran into the rapidly moving river. As the water reached his waist, he flung himself forward and dove under the water so that he could try to make his way to Sam a little faster. He angled himself so that he was swimming with the current while swimming out towards the middle of the river.

Breaking the surface of the water, sucking in air so cold that it burned his throat with every inhale, he looked for Sam. A few short yards in front of him he saw the object of his frantic search. Diving back under the water he pushed himself forward with more energy than he thought he had, trying to reach Sam before they got pulled further down the river. His eyes burning from being forced to remain open underwater, he caught sight of his brother's jean clad legs and reached forward to grab them. His fingers had just brushed the fabric when something slammed into his side, forcing his remaining air to rush out in a stream of bubbles. For a second he was too dazed to think about surfacing to breathe. He was too dazed to even think about his brother; his brother who had been in the near freezing water far too long.

As the pain receded, Dean attempted to inhale, receiving a lungful of water for his efforts. Clawing his way to the surface, lungs screaming, he once again reached out to grab hold of Sam, hoping that in his second inactivity his brother hadn't drifted farther away from him. His hands hitting nothing but water and air, Dean blinked rapidly to clear his eyes and looked around for his brother. Just as panic was beginning to set in he caught sight of Sam behind. Somehow he had been swept along by the current faster and had bypassed Sam.

This would make getting to Sam harder now that he would have to fight the current. Turning so that he faced his brother, Dean kicked against the current, hoping to at least slow his movement enough that Sam would come to him. After a few agonizing seconds, during which Dean became aware of a sharp pain coming from his chest, Sam was again in reaching distance. Stretching his left arm out, Dean was able to grab hold of Sam's jacket and pull him closer. Dean's stomach clenched at the sight of his little brother's face; he had taken on some disturbingly similar qualities to a smurf. Flipping so that he was on his back, he pulled Sam against his chest, making sure to keep his head out of the water and against his shoulder.

Kicking furiously towards the side of the river, Dean started to feel the effects of the cold taking hold. His movements were becoming more lethargic, slower, and he was having trouble staying focused. The continuous coughs that continued to force their way out since he had sucked in that water wasn't helping either.

_Save Sam. Get Sam out of the water. Save Sammy. _

Those thoughts were the only thing that kept Dean moving. His movements became weaker, his kicks not moving them as much as they once had. As he felt all strength leaving him, his shoulders hit land. Digging his feet into the muddy ground, Dean hauled him and his brother out of the water. Too exhausted to even shift his brother off of him, Dean lay in that one spot, trying to regain his breath and feeling in his limbs. After a few moments of staring dazedly at the darkening sky, Dean moved out from underneath Sam.

The movement caused pain to flare up in his chest again, but Dean quickly disregarded it, focusing on his very cold, very still brother.

"Come on Sammy. Don't do this to me," Dean pleaded, placing his hand on his brother's face. He was cold, almost frozen, and didn't react to Dean's touch or voice. Feeling for a pulse, Dean almost cried in relief as he felt a faint flutter under his fingers. After waiting a few seconds more to see if Sam would come around himself, Dean tipped Sam's head back.

"You owe me ten for this, little brother," Dean informed Sam as he leaned in to breathe air into Sam's lungs. Inches before Dean made contact, Sam started coughing, water spraying out of his mouth. Quickly turning his brother onto his side, the older Winchester was so relieved that he barely noticed his face was covered in spit, courtesy of Sam.

Sam coughed a few more mouthfuls of water out of his lungs before he was able to draw in a few ragged breaths. Dean sank back onto his knees, his butt resting on his heels. Now that he knew Sam was okay and breathing for himself all the aches and pains were making themselves known. His chest was practically on fire, definitely some bruised ribs there. It'd be a bitch to get back to the car, especially since he'd no doubt be supporting most of Sam's weight, but at least both of them would be making the trip.


	19. Take for Granted

A/N: I couldn't find any inspiration to write. So I just forced myself to write _something. _It's Dean's POV and it's angsty. Two of my favorite things, heh. His thoughts when Sam says they should split up. Enjoy!

* * *

"Look after Sammy." I always did.

"Make sure your brother's safe." I did that without question.

"Watch Sam's back." What else would I do?

"I think we should split up." Okay.

How can I fight and argue that when I've been thinking it for weeks? When I don't think you can be trusted with this job? With my life? I've always gone out of my way to make sure you had everything. I would go with a little less to eat so you would have more. I helped you with your homework, leaving mine undone. I stole freaking Christmas presents for you so you could try to be a kid for a little longer. I pulled you out of two fires.

All I wanted in return was you. You to be there for me. To listen to me. To shut the fuck up about your problems and think about mine. I know I don't make it easy, always downplaying them or brushing you off. But you know I have issues, especially of the 'Daddy' variety. And yeah, I'm the big brother, the invincible one. But every once in a while I need some help too. I'm not Superman, after all.

I guess I brought this on myself though. All those years of being there for you, not showing myself to be human too. It amazes me that one second you think I'm the strongest person in the world, God, the look on your face when I was in the hospital after that Rawhead job, and the next second I'm the most pathetic person you've ever come across. But now it just seems like you're taking me for granted. I'm just supposed to be there for you, no matter what.

Guess what? There's a limit to how much I can take. I honestly didn't think it'd ever be reached, but that demon blood thing was too much. Especially the lying. And you think you have the right to be pissed at me when I can't just forgive and forget this time. I've caught you so many times from going over that edge. I promised you, you wouldn't go dark side. I can only protect you so much from yourself.

It damn near tore my heart out when you said we should split up. It did tear my heart out when you looked at me, expecting me to fight you. Expecting me to tell you it was an idiotic plan, that we're stronger as a family. But how can I argue that when I don't believe it anymore? The best I can offer is the use of the Impala. It's all I've got left to give you.

"Maybe we should split up." Yeah, maybe we should've done that a long time ago.


	20. Yellow

A/N: Thank you all so much for all the reviews and alerts! They really do make my day better. And this chapter went on way longer than I had planned. Almost 1,500 words. I think that's a record for this collection. AND I'm planning on updating next week too. Planning being the keyword. And to everyone this applies to: Happy Thanksgiving! Oh...and on a side note: HAPPY 21st BIRTHDAY TO ME! Now, on with the story. Enjoy!

* * *

"You can't be serious, Sam," Dean looked at his younger brother in what could only be described as horror.

"It's raining outside. I don't want to get wet," Sam explained, picking up his backpack from by the door.

"You obviously don't want to get girls either," Dean leaned against the counter, making no move to grab his stuff for school.

"What do you mean?"

"You look like an idiot. A bright yellow idiot."

"I just don't want to spend the day in wet clothes," Sam defended. So what if he didn't look 'cool' at least he'd be dry. He'd take dry and comfortable over fashionable any day.

"No, you're going to spend it carrying around Big Bird's jacket," Dean commented.

"Shut up."

"As your brother, I can't let you go out like that."

"It's not like it's affecting you any. Just leave it."

"It is affecting me! Not only do I have to look at you in the car, we have the same last name!" Dean explained. Honestly, did his brother not think these kinds of things through?

"So?" Apparently not. And Sam was considered the smart one?

"So? So, if people make fun of you, they'll make fun of me. Then I'll get in a fight and we'll have to move. Again. Do you want to move, Sammy?"

"How about you just not get in a fight?" Sam suggested. He looked towards the door, hoping his brother would get the hint. They were running late for school now.

"I have a reputation to keep up."

"How do you already have a reputation? We've been here a week," Sam asked, momentarily distracted from his attempt to get Dean out the door.

"And in that week I've established a reputation. I'm not letting you wear a yellow poncho to school." A poncho. Not even a raincoat. Where did he even get the stupid thing?

"You can't stop me," Sam said, striking the, now familiar, moody teenager pose. Arms crossed, feet spread, eyes narrowed. It wasn't overly intimidating, unless you knew Sam Winchester. Then you knew you were in for a fight. His stubbornness was only matched by their father's.

"Wanna bet?" Dean asked, leaning forward. Yeah, Sam was stubborn. But he could easily over power the runt. Sam seemed to understand his older brother's intentions and switched tactics. If him simply refusing to take off the poncho wouldn't work, he knew something that would.

"I'll yell for dad." The ultimate trump card. Juvenile, sure. But you couldn't argue with the results.

"You're going to go crying to dad? I thought you had grown out of that, Sammy."

Damn, why did he have to bring dad into this? Not only would John be pissed that he had to break up a fight, he'd be pissed that the fight was over something so stupid. Dean eyed his brother. He knew he was serious, Sam would call their dad. But did the consequences of that outweigh the consequences of going out in public with a poncho? A bright yellow poncho. Wait…was that Mickey Mouse on it? No contest. That poncho was toast.

Dean backed away from Sam, walking towards the small living room. Sam tracked his movements with his eyes, not believing that Dean had given up so easily. He was right. Dean had managed to circle around enough that he could tackle Sam from behind. He hit the youngest Winchester with enough force to send them both to the ground. Sam rammed an elbow back, catching Dean in the stomach, causing his grip to loosen. Sam wiggled out of his brother's grasp and crawled across the floor on his hands and knees. He had gotten halfway out of the kitchen when he was grabbed around the knees and pulled back.

"Dad!" Sam yelled, twisting so he could try and kick at Dean. "Dad, help!"

"Give it up, Sammy," huffed Dean. He had managed to pin one of Sam's arms to his side and was attempting to slip the poncho off over his brother's head. "Just take the damn thing off, already."

"Let me go! I'm serious, Dean," Sam shouted, still squirming in his brother's grasp.

"What the hell is going on in here?" a voice asked. The brothers stopped and looked up at their dad. He looked a little on the upset side, but also like he was fighting a laugh. They had to look funny. One kid in a yellow Disney poncho that was half off his head, the other kid lying on top of him trying to wrestle it off.

"Dean won't let me wear my poncho! He wants me to get sick," Sam explained.

"Sam's trying to ruin my social life!" Dean said at the same time.

Neither claim made much sense, as their voices ran together. John rubbed a hand down his face. Rarely did his boys act like this, but when they did it was all he could do not to go crazy. He looked from Dean and Sam, who had yet to move from their position on the ground, to the clock. They were officially late for school. And he still had to start research on the hunt he was looking into.

"Okay you two, get up," John waited while his boys picked themselves up, Sam righting his poncho while glaring at Dean. "Sam, you can wear that thing. Go wait in the car for your brother."

Sam shot Dean a smug look, picking up his school stuff and walking out to the car. Dean started to protest the unfairness of life but stopped when John looked back at him.

"You were fighting over him wearing a poncho? What's the big deal?" John asked his oldest. Dean was the epitome of a big brother. He went above and beyond what was expected of him. If Sam wanted something, his brother was sure to give it to him. The fact that this had been such an issue had John wondering why it mattered so much.

"He looks like an idiot," Dean stated, like it was obvious. And John had to admit, Sam did look rather stupid wearing that.

"I still don't see why that would bother you so much. If he looks like an idiot, that's his problem, not yours. What's the real reason?"

Dean looked off to the left, making sure Sam wasn't listening in. "The kids are going to make fun of him."

There it was. It wasn't so much that Dean was bothered by the Disney themed rain protection, but that kids at school would make fun of Sam. John sighed, knowing Dean wouldn't let this go. Especially if his worries came true. He really didn't want to deal with a hurt Sam and a pissed off Dean later.

"There's nothing you can do about that. Kids are cruel. Sam's going to have to learn to deal with it."

"Deal with it," Dean snorted. "Thanks dad, that's a big help. You can tell him that this afternoon when he asks why the kids are such little shits towards him. Or why he doesn't have any friends."

"We don't have time for this right now, Dean. You guys have to get to school, and I have to work on this hunt." Seeing that his son wasn't happy with how the conversation had been ended, John sighed, again. "How about I pick up a different poncho today? One that isn't as…noticeable?"

Dean thought about that for a second. He didn't like that Sam would have to put up with teasing for even one day, but at least this way he could look a little more normal tomorrow. One day wasn't something they couldn't handle.

"Okay, I guess," Dean muttered. He wasn't happy, but he really didn't have much of a choice either.

"Good. Now get out there before your brother drives himself to school."

"He wouldn't dare steal my baby."

"I think you're underestimating how much he likes his classes," John said. He never would understand how one son could loathe the thought of school, while the other couldn't get enough of it.

"Good point. See you tonight." Dean turned and walked towards the door. He was halfway out the apartment when he looked back. "And dad? Get him a blue one, if you can. It's his favorite color."

* * *

A/N: Oh family. They drive you insane, but you still love them. Most of the time. So, make my day and review...or, you know, say happy birthday. That works too...


	21. 4 in 1

A/N: I really was going to update two weeks ago. But then I had a moment of brilliance...sorta. The chapter I had written was about Dean's birthday. Then I realized his birthday is next month. So I decided to wait and post it then. Unfortunately, that meant I had nothing for right now. And I couldn't write anything long, so I put four little ones together. They're all very cute, at least I think so. Enjoy!

* * *

"I'm bored," Sam whined. "Play a game with me."

"Not right now Sammy, I need to finish my homework," Dean told his little brother. "Dad will kill me if I don't."

Sam looked over his brother's shoulder and watched as the fourteen year old worked half a math problem before erasing it all. He watched the same process another three times. By that time Dean looked ready to throw the book out the window.

"The answer's 5x," Sam said. "Now can we play a game?" Dean whipped his head around to stare at the ten year old.

"How did you do that?" Dean asked.

"My teacher says I'm advanced for my age," Sam said, a hint of pride in his voice. Dean continued to look at his brother in amazement. Sam was working ninth grade math, and he was only in the fifth! A smile worked its way onto Dean's face.

"I have a new game, Sam. I write down a problem and we see who can solve it first. Loser buys ice cream."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was raining. Still. It had been raining for the past three days. Three days stuck inside with nothing to do.

"Deeeeeaaan!!" Dean groaned at the sound of his name. He had been so proud when Sam had learned to say his name.

"Deeeeaaan!!" God, how he wished his brother had never learned to talk.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

They played battleship: Sam won. They played Uno: Sam won. They played checkers: Sam won. They played monopoly: Dean cheated like crazy, Sam still won. They raced from the motel to the park: Dean let Sam win.

Sam smiled, dimples flashing. Losing really wasn't that bad.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Christmas was for babies. Dean had long ago stopped believing in Santa and angels. He knew better than to expect toys, a snowy wonderland, and a big dinner surrounded by family. At eight, Dean was disillusioned to the holiday spirit. Which would explain why he was speechless when he woke up to see a small pile of wrapped gifts on the table. And was that his dad in the kitchen making pancakes?

Sam was already tearing the paper off his few presents, his face glowing with happiness. Dean glanced out the window and saw specks of white falling. Running to the window he was greeted with the sight of a snow dusted parking lot. He turned to look back at his family. Sam crawling around on the ground, playing with his new Matchbox car, John putting a plate piled high with pancakes on the table. It was snowing outside.

Christmas miracles did happen. Who knew?

* * *

A/N: Everybody say it with me now: AAAAWWWWW! Okay, now go put that into a review!...please. And just in case I can't update anytime soon (vacation and what-not): HAPPY HOLIDAYS! HAPPY NEW YEAR! Stay safe everyone!


	22. Birthday: Dean

A/N: Sorry this took so long to update. How dare RL get in the way of my fictional writing?!? Anyway, I was taking one of those fun (and pointless) online quizes about what your birthday means. I was a super big dork and put in Dean and Sam's. And they actually fit. Awesome. So, since it was Dean's birthday three days ago...here's his. Sam's will be published on/around his birthday in May. Enjoy this little look into the mind of Dean Winchester (and after that last episode...it's a lot scarier than I had imagined.)!

* * *

January 24, 1979

You Are a Mediator

You understand people well and are a natural born therapist.  
A peacemaker, people always seem to get along when you are around.  
You tend to be a father or mother figure to friends, even to those older than you.  
You enjoy your role, and you find that you are close to many people.

Your strength: Your devotion

Your weakness: Reliance on others for happiness

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Fighting. That's all his family seemed to do anymore. And not just the routine fights against all things dark, spooky, and evil. Now it was fights between each other. Well, mostly just between Sam and their dad. Dean was the odd man out, the deciding vote, the seal caught between two killer whales intent on getting their way.

Killer whales? He had to stop letting Sam choose what they watched at night.

All geeky nature things aside, he really was caught in the middle. The mediator. What kind of screwed up family needs a mediator? Dean knew they weren't normal, accepted that fact with open arms and a carefree smile. Normal was overrated, anyone can be normal. But, normal or not, how messed up did a family have to be to require a peacekeeper for every conversation? Seriously, **every** conversation. He had stopped so many fights he felt like a WWE referee. Half the time he wasn't even sure what the fights were about.

Last week he had actually gone out with some kids from his class. He came back to find his brother and dad moments away from having an all out smack-down in the middle of the small apartment. Half an hour to get them to back away from each other. Two hours to completely calm Sam down. Five hours for their dad to come back from the local bar so Dean could help him to bed. What was learned from that whole night? Dean had to be around to keep the peace; no more social life.

Not that he minded. He had been taking care of Sam since he was four. He had taught the kid how to read, tie his shoes, and the best way to pick up girls. He had raised Sam, along with himself. And, sometimes, it seemed that he had raised his dad too. All the times he had been responsible for buying food, making sure they were registered for school, taking care of a hung over father. Yeah, it sucked at times. But Dean accepted that that was his role in the family. Father figure to his little brother and a caregiver to his dad.

And really, for all the complaining, internal of course, Dean didn't mind. He liked knowing that he was able to take care of those he loved. He liked feeling useful. He didn't like that over the years he had become so dependent on them. Every time Sam talked about college and leaving their life behind, Dean cringed. Every time their dad didn't return on time from a hunt, Dean feared the worst. It was his weakness. But when you're in charge of keeping your family together for twenty years, it's near impossible to break that impulse.

Raising Sam, keeping their dad from losing touch with reality, stopping the two of them from fighting to the death. Yeah, that pretty much summed up his life. Dean Winchester: mediator extraordinaire.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"The relationship you have with your brother, it's not healthy."

* * *

A/N: The quote is from _Sam, Interrupted_. It may not be exactly right, but it's close enough. AND it fit so nicely into this, I had to use it. Remember: reviews are love!


	23. Who

A/N: Sorry you for anyone who got, like, 5 emails for the last chapter. FF and I weren't getting along. This is a true drabble...it's very short. Enjoy!

* * *

"So, who're we this week? Aerosmith singers? Or maybe Motorhead?"

"Not sure, yet. I'm thinking those might be too recognizable."

"How many people know who John Fogerty is?"

"I know, man. But since that scarecrow thing in Indiana, I'm not sure the usual names are going to fly."

"So, we're just going to pick random names out of a phone book or something?"

"Where's the fun in that? No, we just gotta think of more creative names."

"Hector Afraiman wasn't good enough?"

"That was dad's, and it lacked character. No, I was thinking something like Graeme Edge." Sam looked at Dean with a blank look. "Steve Winwood?"

Still nothing. Sam was in serious need of Classic Rock 101. Dean thought for a moment before thinking of a name he was sure Sam would recognize.

"Chad Allan."

"Wasn't he on Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman?"

* * *

A/N: John Fogerty is from Creedence Clearwater Revival. Graeme Edge is from The Moody Blues, an English band. Steve Winwood was in the band Traffic before going solo. Chad Allan was a member of Canadian band Guess Who. There's also an actor by the same name that was on Dr. Quinn.


	24. What

A/N: An update only a week later? I must love you guys or something. And since I love you all...Will you guys be my Valentine? If so...this is your gift. If not...I guess you can still read it. Enjoy!

* * *

"Okay, Sam. This is the first hunt you're officially helping us with. Excited?"

"Not really."

"How're you not excited? I damn near peed my pants my first hunt, I was so happy."

"I have homework that I need to do."

"And that's more interesting than hunting down things that go bump in the night?"

"I'm not even hunting! I'm doing research. In fact, I'm the only one doing research. Why aren't you helping?"

"Because you're a geek. This should be like Mecca to you."

"Mecca? How do you even know that word?"

"I was accidentally awake in geography the other day. Worst hour of my life."

Sam scoffed and went back to reading through the books Bobby had given him. He was looking for something that looked like anything from a mountain lion to a horse that left behind evidence of fire. Sam scowled at the books, thinking of the English paper he'd rather be doing. Instead he was looking up things like nymphs, wendigos, and Ifrits…wait a second.

"Dean, I found it!" Sam yelled, jumping up from his seat in excitement.

"Okay, boy wonder. Let's see whatcha got."

"It's called an Ifrit. They're spirits that embody fire and can take the shape of whatever animal they want. Apparently they think they're superior to all races because they came first, and they resent humans because they've found ways to control them with talismans. If they're ever freed they take revenge on the person that controlled them and usually keep attacking others."

"So…it's a what?"

"A fire demon. You kill it with silver."

"Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

* * *

A/N: It took forever to look up Ifrit and find a webpage that said something better than 'it's a fire demon.' Hope you all liked it. Reviews would be amazingly great!!


	25. When

A/N: Bet you guys didn't see this one coming! Who, what, when...I wonder what's next. Hmmm. Well, ponder that while you read this lovely little chapter. It's all dialogue. Hopefully it works. Oh, and Sam is talking first. Enjoy!

* * *

"So, that was the whole plan?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Was there a backup plan?"

"Nope. That was it."

"Are you sure? There wasn't a part two or anything?"

"There's no part two, no sequel, no to be continued, no nothing."

"You can't be serious."

"Why can't I be serious? That was the whole plan."

"It could barely be called a plan. It had two steps to it!"

"Keep it simple, stupid."

"I don't think that always applies to us. And that was more than just simple, that was just stupid."

"You're stupid."

"I'm being serious! Your plan sucked! If I'd known that was all you had I wouldn't have agreed to it."

"You know what happens when you assume. You make an as…"

"Yeah, I know the saying. Excuse me for thinking you had a real plan."

"It **was** a real plan!"

"It was an incomplete plan!"

"The third step was 'wing it.' I think that pretty much made it complete."

"Wing it? That's not a plan! What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?"

"You and your so called plan are what's wrong with me!"

"It would've worked if you hadn't tripped!"

"Don't blame this on me! 'Wing it.' Who makes a plan like that?"

"Would you just shut up already? You're making my headache worse."

"Sorry to be an inconvenience to you. If we had a real plan, you'd be fine right now."

"Give it a rest already."

"No! When did 'go in, shoot the son of a bitch with some iron, and wing it' sound like a good plan?"

"It sounded better when I said it."

"God, you're such a jerk."

"Bitch."

* * *

A/N: I was worried that I was going to have to write a serious one. I definately like to write funnier, lighter ones. Luckily I thought of this while listening to a song that will forever make me smile. "Cherry Lips (Go Baby Go)" by Garbage. It has nothing what so ever to do with this story, but it put me in a wonderfully happy mood. You guys should listen to it. Reviews, as always, are loved and cherished.


	26. Where

A/N: So, this took way to long to post. Not even to write. I've had it done for almost a month, just the editing was stopping it from being posted. My bad. It's short, and all dialogue, but at least it's something, right? The first line is John and the second is Dean. Just realized that may not have been clear. Enjoy!

* * *

"Okay. So we know that it's using the sewers to get around. Now we just have to figure out the intersecting areas. Once we have an idea of where we can find it, we kill it."

"Kill it up here, right?"

"No, we go down after it."

"Into the sewer?"

"No, we're going to go down into the land of unicorns and candy canes. Yes, the sewer."

"But it's dark down there. What if we get turned around? We'd be sitting ducks. Is going down there really the best way to get this thing?"

"Do you have a better way?"

"No, sir."

"Then, yeah. That's the best way."

"We both have to go down there?"

"Of course we both have to go down."

"Really?"

"What the hell is the matter with you, Dean?"

"I don't like rats."

"What rats? Who said anything about rats?"

"Sewers have rats. And I hear sewers in New York have mutant rats."

"Mutant rats?"

"Like Splinter…From Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?...I made a funny?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, forget the mutant rats. Just think of the normal, everyday disease ridden ones. They bite, they're too small to see, there're always a million of them. That's how the plague was spread!"

"You're going into the sewer."

"Can't I keep guard or something?"

"Keep guard over what?"

"The…manhole you go down?"

"You're going into the damn sewer, Dean."

* * *

A/N: Does Dean really have a fear of rats in the show? I've read too much fanfiction where he does to even know if that's something we all made up or if it's cannon. Huh...Well, please review, it's the right thing to do.


	27. Disillusion

A/N: Would you believe work got in the way of me updating? How about my computer broke? I know! A dragon ripped the roof off my house and I've been busy fighting with the insurance company on paying for the damages because I don't have dragon insurance, but I have fire, and isn't that close enough? No? Okay, let's just go with I kinda suck at life. My apologies. This one is kinda not in any way funny. Enjoy?

* * *

Everyone becomes disillusioned at some point in their life.

John Winchester was able to put of his for many years. After serving in the military he would've said that he was cynical to the world, nothing could get to him now. November 2, 1983. He had a damn near perfect life. A beautiful wife that was out of his league and two sons that meant the world to him. Then he had to watch Mary burn on the ceiling of Sammy's room. Now he knew nothing could get to him.

Dean Winchester was one of the unfortunate few. He was disillusioned early in life. At four years old, he knew that his big, strong, larger than life dad couldn't keep him safe from everything. That there were monsters under the bed. That the dark was something to be feared. That no matter how hard you tried, you could still lose the people you loved. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, he was loving and beyond loyal to those he cared about. He would do anything, give up dreams of his future, throw himself in the line of fire, even let his little brother leave. Let Lisa and Ben go, his chance at a happy, normal life. A life he had no right to.

Sam Winchester. He knew from an early age that there were monsters and that his dad wasn't anywhere near the best dad around. But he was still able to look at the world with optimism. He knew it was mainly due to Dean, his brother had made sure to keep him protected as much as possible. He was allowed to dream about the future, about college. He liked school, had friends, and didn't have the constant fear of demons or witches or werewolves coming after him. He was never disillusioned about his big brother.

For some it's sudden, one moment and it's done. Caught Mom and Dad setting out those presents under the tree and eating Santa's cookies? There you have it. Your parents are liars, there is no Santa, bring on the presents.

For an unfortunate few out there, they're disillusionment comes much sooner. Before they're ready, even. And it's almost never as innocent as finding out there's not tooth fairy. Usually it's scary, and has the power to change and shape a life.

Others it's more of a process and when they look back they can see the path that led them to it. Hard work isn't always enough to get ahead in the world. A co-worker got a raise instead of you? Maybe he kissed ass and played 'the game' better. Learn from that and move on with your life.

Some people get the good fortune of being allowed to believe in a lie for years, sometimes forever. God exists. Touchy subject. Some begin to see the true nature of the world and wonder how an all powerful being could allow things like murder happen. A lot of people believe in God their whole life.

* * *

A/N: Not sure if this got across, but: The first paragraph after Sam's is supposed to describe John's; the second and third are Dean's; the last is Sam's. Not sure if it worked. If not, ignore this. Reviews, anyone? They make me haaaaapy!


	28. Count

A/N: I suck, I know. My bad. Short one, but at least it's an update. Hopefully you guys will see a few more before I leave in December for the Air Force. Enjoy!

* * *

"Shit, man. I think you have a concussion."

"There's no possible way you could know that. All you did was look at me. From across the room."

"And that's all it took. You're not even standing straight up."

"You're not…standing straight up."

"Great comeback, you really got me with that one."

"Shut up, Sam. All your whining is giving me a headache."

"No, that would be the concussion."

"I do not have a concussion!"

"Prove it. How many fingers am I holding up?"

"That doesn't prove anything other than I can count."

"How many, Dean?"

"We don't have time for this! Shouldn't we be leaving, you know, before the cops get here?"

"Just tell me how many fingers you see, and then we can go."

"We can go and you'll shut up about the damn concussion?"

"Scout's honor."

"Fine…three."

"Wrong, try two. I told you, you have a concussion. No way are you driving."

"Yeah? Well how many fingers am I holding up, Sammy?"

* * *

A/N: Reviews are like crack to a $10 whore...Feed my addiction people!


	29. Idiot

A/N: Holy moly, I updated already? Thanks to everyone who's reviewed/favorited/story alerted this! Much love to you all. JSYK, I attempted to use one word of Latin. I don't know Latin. I may have made the word up...just go with it. I'll just let you get to it, then. Enjoy!

* * *

Sam swore as a chair connected with the wall where he had been crouching moments before. This demon was giving them more hell than they had planned for. Wincing to himself at how his thoughts were sounding more and more like Dean, he ran towards the Latin book that had been stripped from his hands a few minutes ago. Grabbing the book up, he huddled behind an overturned table to find the page again.

He could hear Dean across the room drawing the demon's attention to him. As often as he hated his older brother's tendency to not know when to shut up, times like this it was convenient. Flipping through the pages, he almost skipped right over the needed one and nearly tore the page out in his attempt to not lose his place again. He moved to stand up just as a shot rang out.

Frantic, Sam jumped to his feet. Neither his brother nor the demon was in sight, and there were no noises to alert him to where they might be. Scanning the room, Sam made his way to where he had last seen Dean. Just as he was moving around to see behind the couch, another shot sounded. Sam's head jerked to the right, the sound had definitely come from the kitchen.

Holding the book in front of him so he could start reading as soon as he could see the demon, Sam ran towards the other room. He barely took the time to notice that Dean was on the floor with the demon straddling him with hands reaching for his neck. Pushing back the instinct that told him to run and help his brother, Sam started reading. As he nearly shouted the Latin the demon doubled its efforts to get to Dean, knowing time was growing short.

With one last shout of "_exum_!" the possessed body went rigid and fell to the side of Dean, black smoke pouring out of the mouth and disappearing. Dropping the book, Sam took the couple of steps need to reach his brother's side and slammed to his knees, hands going to Dean's shoulders.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam asked, brown eyes meeting green. When all he got was a moan in answer, his eyes moved to take in the rest of his brother. He noticed a growing stain on the side of Dean's shirt and hissed as he shoved the shirt away to see where a bullet had grazed and left a deep gouge on Dean's side. Pushing a hand against the bleeding injury, Sam looked back up to his brother's face and let a small smile show. This was definitely the least injured either one of them had been after a hunt in a while. "You're alright."

"I'm not alright. I've been shot you idiot," Dean snapped. He and Sam were seriously going to have to talk about the definition of 'alright'. Or maybe he'd just shoot Sam in the gut and ask if _he_ was alright. Idiot.

* * *

A/N: Almost no dialogue. It's tougher than I thought it'd be. Happy Halloween to everyone who celebrates! (I'm totally going to be the coolest 21 y/o EVER and wear my Ravenclaw cloak that I got from Wizarding World...my boyfriend's ashamed of me for some reason though. He just doesn't get it...) Reviews are, as always, cherised.


	30. Snow

"Let's go hunt the Wendigo in South Dakota, Sammy. It'll be fun, Sam. Afraid of a little cold, Sasquatch?" Sam pitched his voice high in his impression of his brother. He ducked under a snow covered branch, glaring at Dean's back. They had been walking through the woods for over three hours. And this was after walking through the exact same woods for five hours yesterday. Three guesses on what they hadn't seen a single sign of. The stupid Wendigo that was looking more and more like a mountain lion attack.

And they could easily be on their way to somewhere less Arctic if Dean would just accept that this wasn't a real hunt. But no, his stupid, bull-headed brother refused to back down and admit that they were wrong about this one. Calling Dean ten kinds of stupid in his head, Sam failed to notice the snow drift until he was knee deep in it.

Cursing at everything from his brother for dragging him on this little hike, to their dad for ever making them into hunters, to nature for coming up with something as ridiculously pointless as snow, Sam wrenched his leg free.

He glared at his now wet jeans and thought of how much more unpleasant this trip was about to get. Hearing what sounded like a muffled laugh ahead of him, Sam whipped his head up to scowl at Dean. Sure enough, his brother was a few yards in front of him biting his lip to keep from laughing too loudly.

Growling slightly, Sam threw his pack to the ground.

"Aw, come on Sammy, don't be like that."

"Don't be like what, Dean? Don't be mad that we've been out here for two days and haven't seen sign of a Wendigo? Don't be so friggin' cold that I'd be warmer on a glacier? Don't be pissed that you're laughing at me?"

"Uh, yeah. Pretty much all of that. And we don't know for sure that this isn't one of our jobs. It might not be a Wendigo, but it could be a werewolf or a skinwalker or something."

"Dean! It's not a Wendigo, the moon cycle isn't right for a werewolf, and what the hell would a skinwalker be doing in the middle of nowhere?"

Dean huffed, looking up at what little sky could be seen through the tree branches like he was praying for patience. Sam growled, why the hell did Dean need patience? It was his damn hunt, after all. Dropping his own pack, Dean walked back over to his brother only to windmill his arms trying to regain balance when he hit an icy patch of snow.

Catching his feet again, arms held out to the side, Dean took another step. Sam watched in growing amusement when his brother's feet shot out from under him. Dean pitched forward, landing hard on his knees and barely managed to catch himself before his face hit the ground too. He got his arms under and pushed up, only to slip and have his chin slam into the hard forest floor.

"It's _not_ funny!" Dean yelled, his voice muffled since he hadn't tried to pick himself up again.

"Aw, come on Dean, don't be like that," Sam threw his brother's earlier words back. He grinned, leaning back against a tree to watch Dean attempt to stand up and get clear of the ice. Snow had some redeeming qualities, like embarrassing big brothers.


	31. Repeat

A/N: I think I'm spoiling you guys with so many updates in a row. Guess I'm just wonderful like that ;) Enjoy!

* * *

"Hey, Dean." A twitch of a shoulder.

"Dean." A hand curling into a fist.

"Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean." The voice had taken on a sing-song quality that somehow managed to make it ten times more annoying. Or maybe it was the fact that this had been going on for the last hour.

He had tried everything to make Sam shut up and leave him alone. Walking out of the room didn't help, as Sam just followed. Headphones had proved useless since his younger brother was able to shout louder than the volume of the walkman could go up. Even locking himself in the bathroom didn't work; Sam had just sat outside the door, repeating his name while knocking a rhythm on the door until Dean came out.

Now he had sunk so low as to clean the guns, that he and John had cleaned the day before, as some sort of silent threat that if Sam didn't knock it off, he was likely to be shot. Still the kid kept up repeating his name over and over and over. This was ridiculous. What had he done to deserve this kind of torture? No one should have to put up with such an annoying kid like Sam.

"Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean."

He was not going to hit, maim, mangle, disfigure, injure, or hurt Sam in anyway. He wasn't. He wasn't. He wa…

"Dean. Dean. Dean."

He totally _was_. And nothing John said or did was going to make him feel guilty about it in any way.

"_What_ Sam? What can I do to make you shut up and leave me alone?" Dean snapped, hands tightening their hold on the shotgun he had been putting back together.

"I'm hungry," Sam pouted. Dean stared at him.

_He's hungry? I've had to listen to my name be repeated until I'm almost crazy because he's hungry? That little…_

"Then why didn't you eat?" Dean asked, his voice tight with anger.

"I want you to make me something," Sam explained, practically rolling his eyes at what he must've thought was obvious to anyone with a brain.

Dean shut his eyes and counted under his breath. Sam was only ten, much too young for him to kill. Plus he'd have to hide the body and think of an explanation for their dad. No, killing Sam wasn't worth the effort. "What do you want me to make?"

"A Pop Tart!"

"A Pop…you can make that yourself!" Dean looked at his brother in disbelief. He was being annoyed to within an inch of his life because of a Pop Tart?

"But you make them better! I always burn it, I don't like it burnt."

"If I make you one, will you leave me alone?"

"Sure."

Grumbling under his breath, Dean stood up and walked to the small kitchen. Why Sam couldn't make it himself, he didn't know. It's not like it took a genius to work a toaster. Although, their dad pretty much sucked at cooking too. Maybe Sam took after him in that department. Dean grabbed the Pop Tart from the toaster when it popped up and dropped it on a plate he had taken from the drying rack. Turning around to find Sam standing behind him, he shoved the plate into Sam's stomach with a rough "here" and walked out of the room.

Silence. It was wonderful, and something Dean would never take for granted again.

"Dean!"

* * *

A/N: Only a few more chapters and I'll be ending this. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed or added this to their alert/favorite list!


	32. Home

A/N: This one got a little depressing. Sorry about that. Hope you all enjoy it anyway!

* * *

"Come on Dean, it's time to move out. Sammy's already in the car," John yelled for his older son. He pushed the door to the small apartment they had been renting open to see Dean staring into the distance. "What's the matter?"

"Why do we move so much?" Dean asked, his voice just above a whisper.

John sighed, coming up behind his son and placed a hand on his shoulder. He'd had this same conversation before. Five times in fact. Five out of the last eight they had moved. Dean knew why they moved around so much. He claimed he understood the need to do so, but still he asked.

"We go where we're needed. And right now, Bobby has a hunt for us two states over in Nevada."

"Why us?"

"Someone has to protect people, and not everyone knows what we know."

"There are other hunters. They could go," Dean looked up at John, his green eyes pleading.

"We're closest, and we have a job to do. Winchesters don't back down. They do what they have to do and shut up about it." As soon as the words left his mouth, John knew they had been wrong. He felt Dean's shoulder tense under his hand before the sixteen year old jerked away.

"Yes, sir."

"Dean, I know you don't like moving. I know it's hard. But after what happened to your mom, I can't live knowing what killed her is still out there. And until I can find it, I'm going to stop as many evil sons of bitches as I can."

Dean glanced at his dad out of the corner of his eye. He knew all this, had heard it dozens of times before. He understood the need to find what had killed Mary. He accepted that this was the only thing keeping John going at times. He just didn't have to like it. He didn't have to like constantly being the 'new kid' in school. He didn't have to like not having friends. He didn't have to like not having a mom or a dad with a normal 9-5 job. And he certainly didn't have to like seeing his little brother suffer from being uprooted multiple times a school year and never fitting in.

But not liking things didn't change them any. He nodded and headed towards the door. He passed the couch where he and Sam had sat doing homework. The television that had crappy cable but got some excellent old scary movies late at night. The kitchen he had cooked seemingly endless cans of Spaghetti-O's and bowls of Cocoa Puffs. The scratched wooden table where he had stitched up his dad after a hunt or night at a bar that got rough.

He paused with his hand on the door handle. This wasn't a home. It was just a place, and they'd be going to another place, then another. This was their life, and Winchesters did what they had to and shut up about it.

* * *

A/N: I think this happened because I'm leaving for AF basic training tomorrow. And on that note, this is going to be my last update for at least 3 months. Because of that I'm going to put 'Hiatus' in my summary. Hopefully I'll get back to writing soon. But if you think I update slow now, just wait until I actually have to do something productive with my life. Before I left you all, I just wanted to say how much I appreciated all of the PMs, reviews, story alerts, and story favorites. Even though the show is getting a little too far out there for my liking, I will forever love the early seasons and the extreme hottness that is the Winchester brothers. And I will definately forever love all of you that were with me for the 2 years! Thanks so much!

BTW: you should totally review this chapter too. Give me something to look forward to after 8 weeks of Hel...military training. Thanks again!


End file.
